


Dementor's Heart

by leontina (Leontina)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death (not Harry or Tom), Dark Harry, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slightly Underage (Harry is 15/16)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 05:15:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10610016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leontina/pseuds/leontina
Summary: Harry falls in love with Tom Riddle when he meets him in the Chamber of Secrets, which sends Harry down a very different path and changes the fate of the war entirely.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I got a prompt on Tumblr that said 'if it's dark Harry prompts, he falls in love (or puppy love) when he's 12 with the memory of Tom Riddle? probably Ginny dies :/'
> 
> The idea got entirely out of hand and I came up with this...Voldemort is entirely an evil bastard, and there is a little bit of Dumbledore bashing but not really (Harry's mind is pretty twisted in this). Please enjoy, and feel free to send me Tom/Harry or Voldemort/Harry prompts on my [Tumblr](http://acciotomriddle.tumblr.com/ask)

A lot of people said Harry wasn’t quite right after he came out of the Chamber of Secrets. People who pretended to care about him said it was to be expected; he’d been trapped down there with the body of a dead girl, a dead Basilisk, and a slashed apart diary that had been to blame for the whole thing. Trauma, they said.

Harry wasn’t traumatised. He just missed Tom.

Tom Riddle had been even more handsome in person than he had been in the memory he’d drawn Harry into, and Harry had become immediately smitten with him. Tom had been upset when he’d appeared, swearing that he tried to help Ginny but he just _couldn’t_ , and he never wanted her _dead_. 

Harry had felt sad and Tom had comforted him, told him he would be able to hug him properly if Harry allowed Tom to burrow just a _little_ bit of his magic...Harry had been prepared to let him until Fawkes had swooped in, slashing at the diary lying forgotten in the water and making Tom disappear in a golden glow. 

Harry hadn’t been able to get Tom out of his mind since. Tom had been so lovely, handsome and elegant, understanding and intelligent. It wasn’t fair that his memory had been destroyed.

Harry began neglecting Hermione, who didn’t nearly appeal to Harry as much as Tom had. Ron was already gone, taking a year off school after the death of his sister, and while Harry felt sad for Ginny he felt sadder for Tom. 

Towards the end of third year, Harry fell into a trap set by Sirius Black, only to learn that it wasn’t really a trap. Sirius told Harry the truth about his parent’s deaths, and how they’d been betrayed by a man named Peter Pettigrew. Sirius had brought Peter with him, captured by Sirius only recently. Sirius wanted Peter to look in Harry’s eyes one last time so that he could remember what he’d done before Sirius killed him.

“I want to watch you,” Harry had said, seething with rage towards Peter. “Let me see.”

Sirius didn’t use his wand and instead beat Peter into a bloody pulp until his battered body could take no more. It was glorious to see.

Harry had thought of Tom afterward, and how his death had gone unavenged. Fawkes was a Phoenix and couldn’t die, but Dumbledore had no doubt been the one to give the order to Fawkes in the first place. 

Later, when Dumbledore didn’t fight hard enough for Harry when his name came out of the Goblet of Fire, his resentment towards him grew. Harry threw himself into training for the tournament, knowing if he could be almost as half as smart as Tom had been then he could win the whole damn thing. 

Harry did win, every single task, right up until the third one when the trophy whizzed him away to a graveyard and Harry found himself tied to a gravestone that read _Thomas Riddle_.

Thomas Riddle...it was too much of a coincidence for it to be anyone other than a relative of Tom’s; his father, perhaps, given the dates. 

Then the Death Eater who’d bound Harry began a ritual, the words _bone of the father_ sticking out firmly in Harry’s head.

Voldemort rose from the cauldron when it was finished, tall and pale and powerful, and Harry knew he should be terrified but he couldn’t be until he had the truth..

“Thomas Riddle was your father,” Harry stated, drawing Voldemort’s curious gaze to him. “Does that make you Tom Riddle? Please tell me.”

Voldemort loomed over Harry. “Never speak that name again,” he hissed.

“But is it true?” Harry urged. “I have to know.”

“I was him,” Voldemort snarled. “Until I became someone far more powerful.”

And powerful Voldemort was, his strength and aura almost overbearing. It was hard to believe that Harry’s lovely Tom could turn into someone so monstrous, but if Tom was Voldemort, then Voldemort was Tom.

“I want to join you,” Harry begged. “I met you before—the younger you—and I need you. The diary...Dumbledore destroyed it and made Tom disappear. I want Dumbledore dead and I know you want that toe. Please, let me join you.”

Voldemort laughed coldly, running his skeletal hand through Harry’s hair like he was a pet. “An interesting proposition...I can hardly refuse such a sweet request. Let me train you in the way of Dark magic, Harry, and in return I request only your loyalty.”

It was a good job that Dumbledore became reclusive and distant in Harry’s fifth year, because nobody else noticed Harry disappearing night after night. He’d driven away all his friends long ago, and the other teachers were easy to fool. 

Voldemort may have once been Tom, but he was truly nothing like him. Voldemort was a good teacher and had taught Harry Dark spells that left him feeling almost high on the power of casting them, but Voldemort was also cruel and arrogant, and sometimes leered at Harry in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. One day Voldemort’s hand slid onto Harry’s thigh, and Harry hexed him with one of the spells he’d been taught just days before. Voldemort had just laughed afterwards, and continued laughing as he Crucio-ed Harry and told him to think twice before denying him next time. 

Harry took greater care to keep physical distance between himself and Voldemort after that.

By sixth year, Dumbledore had told Harry about Voldemort’s Horcruxes and how the diary had been one. Harry realised that if he found at least one of them then he could bring his own Tom back to him. Then he could kill Dumbledore _and_ Voldemort, and be free of both of them. 

Dumbledore showed Harry memories of Tom which only furthered Harry’s affection towards him. Tom’s cold and neglectful upbringing had been so similar to Harry’s, but then Tom had proven to everyone at Hogwarts that he was the smartest and most gifted student the castle had seen, and gathered powerful friends who all but worshipped Tom...he was almost like a god with his charisma and thrall.

Harry was all too disappointed when the locket he and Dumbledore went to retrieve turned out not to be a Horcrux, but a fake one replaced by one _R.A.B_. He was even more disappointed when Snape murdered Dumbledore the same night, taking away Harry’s chance of doing it.

“Why would you tell Snape to kill him?” Harry roared at Voldemort later. “You said _I_ would be the one to do it.”

“I told Draco to kill him, believing he would fail and ensure his own death instead,” Voldemort answered lazily. “He and Snape both violated my wishes.”

“Then kill them both,” Harry hissed. “And make them suffer.”

“You do not get to make commands without offering me something in return,” Voldemort snarled. “Give me your body tonight and they’ll both be dead by morning. If you refuse, I’ll send them away so _you_ can’t kill them, and I’ll fuck you anyway.”

Harry had little choice to do anything but agree, and he grunted when Voldemort pushed inside him, trying not to ignore the pain but to take it in, because he wanted to remember this when it came to killing Voldemort. 

And now, at least, he knew what he wouldn’t have with Tom. Tom would prepare Harry and work him open, be rough but not violent, would make Harry see stars, and would kiss him tenderly. 

“I hate you,” Harry spat when Voldemort finally pulled out of him, leaving Harry’s thighs wet and sticky. “Kill Snape and Draco by the morning or I’ll make you regret tonight.”

The next morning Harry woke to two familiar-faced corpses hanging outside his bedroom window. 

Harry ran away after that. 

He spent weeks in the wild countryside, avoiding Snatchers who Voldemort had sent out to bring Harry back to him. Harry managed to stay out of their grasp, and even killed one or two of them just because he could.

He eventually found and slaughtered a Dementor, using a spell Voldemort had taught him, and stole the Dementor’s heart. He’d read of a potion that could be used with the heart as an ingredient, and the soul of whoever’s skin the potion touched would be pulled out of their body and given to the maker of the potion. It would not be true death that Harry wished for Voldemort, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to kill any of the Horcruxes. And at least this way Harry would be able to trap Voldemort’s soul and bury it in a concrete prison ten feet underground where he’d never be able to flee and return again, which to Voldemort would feel far worse than death.

Harry finally found a Horcrux in the most unexpected of places. He’d been hiding out with his godfather in Grimmauld Place when he’d shown Sirius the letter to see if he might know who _R.A.B_ was. Sirius had known.

“That was my brother,” Sirius croaked. “Regulus.”

They both searched the house high and low before finally discovering the golden locket with a serpentine, emerald _s_ engraved on the front. It pulsed with magic and energy, and Harry knew he’d found Tom again.

The locket opened willingly under Harry’s touch, and a memory of Tom much like from the diary appeared, slightly older than the Tom that Harry remembered but just as beautiful. 

“I’m going to free you,” Harry said. “Just tell me how.”

The ritual required fresh blood, and Harry had never particularly liked Rufus Scrimgeour anyway. It only took three days to find a way to break into Scrimgeour’s home and abduct him. Harry slit Scrimgeour’s throat without a second thought and used the blood to bring Tom back to life.

To see his Tom fully alive, solid and warm and heart beating, was a glorious thing to behold, and the first thing Harry did was kiss Tom soundly. 

Tom wasted no time in taking Harry to bed, far more gentle than Voldemort had been though still domineering, using his power not to intimidate and force but to take Harry apart piece by piece and then make him whole again. When he pushed himself into Harry it actually felt _good_ , and Harry was all but sobbing in pleasure by the end of it.

Afterwards Harry explained the whole story to Tom, and his plans, and when he’d finished Tom smiled darkly.

“Voldemort will pay for hurting you,” Tom drawled. “And then you and I are going to rule the world.”

Voldemort’s obsession with Harry ultimately became his downfall. 

Harry allowed himself to be _captured_ by the Snatchers, who dragged him to a very pleased Voldemort. Harry grimaced when the first of several Cruciatus Curses hit him, but he didn’t scream out, knowing that he would soon have sweet, sweet revenge. 

Harry gritted his teeth as Voldemort tore Harry’s robes apart, and as Voldemort went to open his own robes Harry grasped the potion vial around his neck, uncorking it and tossing the contents right at Voldemort. 

Voldemort hissed loudly, reaching for his wand but collapsing before he could make it. His whole body trembled, shaking violently, his mouth opening in a silent scream as a grey wisp of smoke passed his lips, flying towards Harry and landing right in the now empty potion vial. The smoke in the bottle shook angrily, but Voldemort’s body was entirely lifeless, and the spell that Harry struck it with obliterated it to almost nothing.

The tiny underground prison he and Tom trapped Voldemort in was completely impenetrable and unplottable. Nobody but them knew it existed, and even they wouldn’t be able to find it again once they left the area. It was entirely satisfying knowing that Voldemort had a whole eternity to suffer through, trapped underground with nothing but his thoughts.

“You’ve done magnificent work, darling” Tom purred, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist as he pulled him close and placed a kiss over Harry’s scar. “There’s such beauty in your power, Harry. I will worship you, and have you at my side forever when we claim the Wizarding World for our own.”

“Worship me, Tom, and I will worship you,” Harry murmured softly. “I love you.”

Tom smiled, dazzling and bright. “Tell me again.”

 _I love you_. _I love you_.


End file.
